


Wind Up

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Gags, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Sexual Slavery, Soul Sex, Underage Chara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: Chara and Papyrus have words about the state of Red's soul. Edge continues to despise captivity and his new owners. Something secretive is afoot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Fontfest-y Skele-harem shenanigans. Chara being a creeper, as usual. Very dubious consent and coerced sexual slavery. Sort of ‘accidental stimulation’ but it’s not terribly accidental. Bone-lacing/binding. Referenced abuse/soul rape.

An hour later, Chara is curled up at his side, absently tapping a quiet melody out on Papyrus's ribs as they bask in the ugly pre-dawn hours. He's still exhausted, but he can tell this will be one of those days where sleep will only come with difficulty, if it comes at all. Damn insomnia. 

Red has curled into a tight ball at the end of the bed, despite being offered plenty of room to make himself comfortable. He seemed dubious at even being allowed on the furniture, let alone making proper use of it, but as cramped as his position looks he seems to have had no trouble dropping off. Papyrus is almost a little jealous.

Chara shifts, chin resting on Papyrus's sternum. “So what does that to a monster?”

“What?” Papyrus asks dully, staring up at the ceiling, counting the loops in the embossed pattern like he has a thousand times before. 

“The soul thing. With Red.”

 _Ah_. He knew that question would be coming sooner rather than later. Papyrus absently glances over, but Red's body is lax with sleep. He considers. “Lots of things.”

Because he's an ass, and he's known Chara long enough to get away with it, he leaves that ambiguous statement to hang absurdly unfinished until Chara beats a small fist against his chest. “Like what?”

Papyrus sighs. Definitely time for a smoke. He readies one mechanically as he talks. “Monster souls are only meant to come out under extremely positive circumstances. Having it appear like Red's does...the mechanism that's meant to keep it safe has been broken. Forcibly. By someone else.”

Chara cheekily steals the first drag on his cigarette when he lights it up. Papyrus cracks a smile, amused by the antics, but it's quick to fade as he continues.

“That's probably the reason his HP is so low, so don't try and get him to talk about it, okay? You might literally kill him.”

“Fine,” Chara grumbles, playfully petulant. “So how does it happen?”

Papyrus suspects its more than concern for their new acquisition that's driving Chara's curiosity. He rolls his eyes. Little sadist. “Someone would have kept forcing his soul out in the open until he couldn't control it any more. There's a few different ways that can happen. You could try and coerce the monster into doing it to themselves, but you'd have to have a hell of a lot of leverage. Most monsters would rather die than let someone screw with their soul, especially if it was a human doing it.” 

He suspects it must have been, because he can't even imagine a monster being depraved enough to do that to another of their own kind. 

“So you don't think that's likely?” Chara asks.

Papyrus shrugs. He doesn't really know Red, so he can only guess.

“You can also try and trick the soul into thinking that the circumstances are right for it to come out. There's uh...lots of ways to make a soul more receptive. Drugs. Magic. Sex.”

The last of those is a likely factor given some of Red's scars and his odd behaviours. Not just any sort of sex either; Red would have had to have been emotionally compromised and compliant on some level for it to have affected his soul. Papyrus is going to have to tread really damn carefully with Red until he knows enough not to trigger any sort of trauma.

“But why do it?” Chara presses, glancing over at the small skeleton.

Papyrus has been wondering that himself, though the more he sees of Red, the more he's come to formulate a few suspicions. “This is just a guess...you know how monsters can absorb human souls, but not the reverse?”

Except for Boss Monster souls, but Chara knows that exception all too well. Their face darkens as they nod.

“Well, some humans don't believe that. They think we're holding out on them, that there must be some way to absorb a regular monster soul so they can gain our power or magic or whatever.”

Chara blinks, looking surprised. “So someone was trying to make his soul appear so they could absorb it? Would that actually work?”

“Nope,” Papyrus says simply. “Doesn't stop humans from trying, though.”

The way Red begs not to have his soul touched...Papyrus can't be certain his theory is on the money, but whatever Red's been through, someone was obviously trying to do something with his soul. The idea of some clumsy human manhandling it, trying to devour it while he's still alive...it's a revolting thought.

Chara's face is tight with thought. “Then...what? They gave up and sold him?”

Papyrus shrugs again, but he can see the dissatisfaction on Chara's face and can admit that part of his theory seems a little unlikely. It would have taken a lot of work to train Red as he was; it's hard to imagine someone would have blithely sold away all that effort. 

“Don't know, don't care. He's ours now, which means it's our problem. I'll...try to figure something out. See if I can fix it a bit.”

“Aww. You're going soft,” Chara teases, clearly amused. 

“Go to sleep, brat,” Papyrus grumbles, smothering Chara under a nearby pillow, making the human burble with laughter. They both settle again, conversation tapering off companionably.

It's only several minutes later when he finally twists off the side of the mattress to butt out his spent cigarette in the ashtray beneath the bed that he remembers the room's other occupant. Edge has been strangely silent in his corner, which is even more unusual given that he's actually awake and staring at Papyrus, his eyes narrowed in consideration. Papyrus wonders if he'd overheard the speculative conversation, but decides it doesn't matter, turning away and ignoring the other's strangely intense stare.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“PAPY!”

A flying blur of cerulean ruffles launches from an impressive distance and lands on his chest. Papyrus jolts from his light doze, instinctively moving to catch his assailant and cushion the landing so it's painless for both of them, and pointedly wheezes, “OOF,” like a good victim should.

“Good morning!” Blue's eyes are literally sparkling, glints of gold amid the pale cyan of his pupils. “Breakfast is ready! Are you hungry?”

He isn't, but there's no arguing with Blue's enthusiasm, especially not at _that_ volume. Chara emerges from a nearby mound of blankets, their bluntly shorn bangs skewed from sleep, yawning pointedly in disdain. Red has roused from his small, curled pile at the foot of the bed, looking startled. Over by the wall, Edge just looks resigned. He's had a few weeks to get used to this particular morning routine.

“Sure,” Papyrus agrees easily, even though he's not craving anything except a smoke. Casting a sly glance over to Edge's corner he says, “Why don't you take care of Edge first though. He's had a long night.”

Until he's proven he can be trusted, Edge's chains aren't removed even for sleeping, so he's forced to try and balance awkwardly upright and snatch whatever rest exhaustion permits. Despite his admittedly impressive stamina, the persistent discomfort is starting to wear on him. Edge is looking particularly dull-eyed this morning. 

“Okay!” Blue seems undeterred, scrambling off the bed and straightening the thick layers of his skirts before approaching Edge. Papyrus turns to watch, deceptively alert as Blue straightens his posture and then bows respectfully at the bound skeleton. “Good morning, Edge! Would you like me to clean you up first before you eat?”

It's always entertaining as hell, watching Edge and Blue interact. Blue can't seem to fathom why anyone _wouldn't_ want to be part of Chara's household, so he's never treated Edge like a prisoner. He is always exceptionally polite, always asks permission and is persistently invested in providing Edge with whatever limited comfort he can offer. Edge initially seemed downright offended by this, probably assuming he was being mocked or manipulated, but subsequent interactions have apparently annulled his concerns. Blue is far too sincere to attribute any duplicity to his actions. 

Edge pauses only long enough to appease whatever strange considerations his ego requires before giving an amusing stately nod. Blue beams and goes to fetch his cleaning supplies from the cart he's wheeled into Chara's room, bustling with efficiency and enthusiasm. He seems somewhat less pleased when he finally examines Edge's condition up close, however. 

“Ugh. Papy, did you really make him sleep like this?” He begins resolutely scrubbing the dried residue of magical ejaculate off Edge's cheekbone. Edge shuts his eyesockets and gives a grunt of relief. 

“And what's this?” Blue dubiously pucks free the pillow that had been supporting Edge's lower spine, placed there teasingly by Chara the night before. It's still faintly damp and streaked with the glistening silver trails of Red's soul fluids. Blue makes an appalled face. “Ew.”

Red slides off the end of the bed, hiding from sight in mortification. Papyrus just laughs, chin resting on his palm as Blue mutters to himself about slime and laundry and how Papyrus is clearly an awful influence on everything.

Edge is behaving surprisingly well, this morning. Normally by now Papyrus would have had to replace the gag to smother the usual litany of insults and complaints, but Edge's jaw is visibly tense as he resolutely keeps himself silent, his movements slow and cooperative as Blue works him over, wiping down his bones and removing the crusty traces of unmentionable fluids. Of everyone in the house, Edge seems most receptive to Blue, and Papyrus has been carefully cultivating that appreciation as a facet of their training. Papyrus offers discipline and punishment; Blue offers a reprieve. 

“Blue,” Chara calls, having also been watching the proceedings with acute interest. “I think it's time to redo the ribbons. They're looking a little droopy.”

Edge tenses, looking displeased, but Blue seems delighted. “Ooh! Okay!”

Papyrus gives Chara a sceptical sideways look. Just because Edge is having an unexpectedly good day doesn't mean it's a smart idea to push it, but...whatever. It might be good to start testing the extent of the training, to see how well it's taken hold. 

Unfortunately, this means he can't indulge in a sleep-in. He reluctantly drags himself out of bed, stretching out his spine with a few spectacular pops of the magical ligaments, making both Blue and Edge glare at him in distaste. He strolls over, watching in amusement as each step makes Edge shrink back further against the wall, even though he attempts to glare defiantly up at his tormentor. Papyrus squats down next to him, hooking a phalange under the other skeleton's chin.

“You've been doing so well, Edge. You can behave a little longer, right?”

Edge scowls at him immediately, of course. He has every reason to hate Papyrus. Strangely, his eyes seem to flick to where Red is covertly trying to peer around the corner of the bed before he jerks his gaze back and offers a very reticent nod. Papyrus is faintly impressed. 

“All right,” Papyrus says agreeably, willing to work with this strange change in attitude for as long as it holds. He glances quickly at Chara for approval before moving to unfasten the chains.

He isn't sure whose bright idea it was to lace up the holes of Edge's sacrum the first time, but Chara has been completely enamoured with the idea ever since. It does create quite an alluring image, Papyrus can admit; that contrast of delicate elegance and softness on Edge's strong, angular frame. The current ribbon has come loose, the bow uneven and sagging at the base of his spine. Papyrus plucks it free, one strand at a time, feeling Edge jerk and hiss beneath him as the cord slides through the sensitive holes. Blue has pulled out an assortment of ribbons and cords of different thicknesses and colours, and is deliberating with Chara over which to use. 

Eventually they come to an agreement. By that time, Papyrus has eased Edge to the floor, face-down, his arms bound up behind his shoulder-blades. Even as compliant as he's been this morning, Papyrus is taking no chances. Blue is exceptionally fragile, and his safety is paramount. A short length of chain keeps Edge's wrists crossed and secured to his spine, making any sort of struggling difficult, but the scarred skeleton is clearly trying to keep himself relaxed as Papyrus holds him down and Blue begins to thread a pair of large, blunt needles with twin ribbons of deep purple and bright crimson as per Chara's instruction.

This isn't the first time they've gone through this particular song and dance, and it's not painful as long as Edge doesn't act up. The needles simply make it easier to guide the ribbons through the holes, and Blue's hands are steady enough that nothing will scrape unless his canvas suddenly moves, which experience has taught Papyrus to expect. Edge despises the lacings, and normally puts up a heated fight as if he might convince them all it's too much trouble to go through with. Edge hasn't seemed to have clued in to the fact that his resistance is the main reason Chara insists on it.

Even despite his effort at good behaviour, Papyrus can feel tension beginning to thrum through Edge's bones. His claws are mindlessly clenching and unclenching, his ribcage rising and falling unevenly which at least is a good sign. When Edge is seriously considering lashing out, his breathing turns slow and even – a soldier's habit that Papyrus has learned to watch for. The current erratic pattern suggests he's fighting his own instincts to remain compliant. 

“Shhhh,” Papyrus murmurs, resting one hand on the nape of Edge's neck and the other over the lumbar vertebrae to keep him steady. Edge angles his skull to glare distrustfully, but Papyrus blandly stares him down. Edge is getting faster at learning to drop his gaze first, which Papyrus rewards with small, soothing strokes to his spine. 

“Ready,” Blue announces loudly, since Edge isn't in a position to be able to see. That's probably for the best; Blue has a needle in each hand and looks manically cheerful as he skips over and fearlessly straddles the back of Edge's femurs. Edge flinches, and Papyrus's grip tightens incrementally; a reminder.

“Go for it,” Papyrus says, watching Edge's body language for any hint of trouble as Blue lines up the needle and threads the first hole.

Edge hisses, but endures it stiffly. The constant lacing has left the holes especially sensitive, and despite his best efforts, a shudder begins crawling its way up Edge's spine as the satin of the ribbon slides through the bone with a soft whisper of sound. Blue works skilfully, braiding the two colours together in a new, more elaborate pattern than the previous attempt. He's clearly been practising.

Edge's bones are starting to warm, and Papyrus grins, knowing very well that this is one of the main reasons Edge hates the lacing. The actual act of tying it is unavoidably stimulating. Blue's fingers move deftly across the ridges of the sacrum, twisting and tightening as he binds the bone, and Edge's hips buckle uncertainly. He squirms in Papyrus's hold, fists clenching more fiercely at his back.

“Hey, Blue,” Papyrus says with a grin. “How about you go a little higher today? Up to here.”

He points to the vertebrae midway between Edge's ribcage and his pelvis, and Blue beams at him. “Okay, Papy!”

“I hate you,” Edge wheezes against the floor, the first words he's uttered all morning. “So fucking much.”

“Language!” Blue scolds as Papyrus just laughs.

“I was starting to think you'd forgotten how to talk,” he muses, squeezing Edge's spine, earning a soft grunt. “What's gotten into you today, huh?”

Edge doesn't respond, his expression closed off, but Papyrus can guess. There's really only been one major change since yesterday. He glances over, but Red is still hiding behind the bed. He seems to be folded in on himself, eyes shut, hands over his ears, trying not to pay attention...probably trying to keep his soul from coming out again. Poor guy. Apparently Papyrus isn't the only one who feels sorry for him, if Edge is being unexpectedly docile.

“Well,” he says contemplatively. “If you keep up the good behaviour, you can come with me when I show Red around this morning. A nice little walk to stretch your legs, pet?”

Edge bares fangs at him, scowling at the nickname, but the offer must have been appealing because he stays still enough for Blue to finish the lacing without further difficulty.


End file.
